The Best Souvenir Money Can't Buy

I went to Florida a couple weeks ago to visit my friend Leah and to help at the children's home and school where she works. I got to do a lot of things while I was there-- from a boat ride to see manatees, to making Valentines with the boys at the home, to helping in the classroom, to holding and singing to the sick 3-year-old in the middle of the night while trying to get his fever to go down. My last morning there I taught a writing workshop, focusing in part on narrative vs. expository essays. We wrote, we edited, we read our essays to each other. We edited some more (anyone who's had me as a teacher knows how much I love the revision process...).

Andrew, the 11-year-old won my heart from the beginning of my visit. But still, I wasn't expecting to get as attached to them as I did.

"Are you really surprised?" my dad asked me when I told him this.

But I really was surprised. I knew I'd enjoy my time there, but somehow I didn't expect to have such a hard time leaving. I took a lot of pictures; my thought was to print one as a souvenir of my time there and to put it next to my mirror as a reminder to pray for the home and the boys I'd grown to love even during such a short visit.

And then today I got another souvenir-- unexpected, unrequested, and yet one I'll treasure for a very long time.


Dear Miss Anne,

Here is my essay about my favorite times with you. Do you think it is a narrative or an expository essay?

Thank you for coming over and I hope you had a nice flight back.

Have a nice week.

Andrew


How was my time with Miss Anne? Well, I will tell you. It was the best time yet, and here are some reasons. They are that she played with me and took pictures of me.

My reason why we had a good time is that we played together. First, we played with my transformers and that was when I was sick. Then, we made some Valentines together. To sum up this paragraph, Miss Anne is a fun person to have around all the time, especially to play with.

Next, she took pictures of me, and that is another reason why we had a good time. She took pictures of me when I was climbing a tree at General Ken’s house. She took pictures of me at the Rainbow River Club. Then, she took pictures of me in my New York shirt. Pictures help me to remember the events that happened.

Last of all, as already mentioned before, the reasons why I had a good time with Miss Anne are that she played with me and took pictures of me. From that week forth I will never forget how nice she was to me and Miss Leah.

Dakota Dog Davies

105 years in dog-time. That's pretty old. Even when you've had a pleasant, easy life.

For those of you who don't think in dog-time, that's 15 years in human-time. 15 years is a pretty long time too, especially when you think about how many memories you make in any given year. Or week. Or day, for that matter.

Dakota Dog Davies. Also known affectionately as "Puppyhead." A member of our family for 15 years. We knew he wouldn't be around forever, but we're only now realizing what it means to say goodbye.

Dakota may not have been the brightest member of our family. I still remember the day we were preparing for some large party. Everything was perfect and ready to go, and we kids had been given the task of wearing Dakota out so he wouldn't be too hyper around the guests. I don't remember who, but one of us ran out onto the deck and, in an attempt to stop Dakota from following us outside, slid the screen door shut. And wouldn't you know it, Dakota Dog Davies kept running-- right through the screen door, ripping it irreparably just minutes before all the guests arrived.

There was also the Pastors' Conference when we were getting ready to have some of the men over for dinner. Mom was going to defrost the hamburger meat to make her meal, but the men arrived earlier than expected. She went out to meet them. When she got back to the kitchen, she couldn't find the hamburger anywhere. "Maybe I did start defrosting it after all?" she thought, and looked in the microwave. Nope. "Maybe I never took it out?" she thought, and looked in the freezer. Nope. And then she saw Dakota Dog Davies, just lying on the floor. Looking rather guilty and rather ill, I might add. That poor, greedy dog had eaten five pounds of raw hamburger meat. I'm happy to say he lived many happy years after that. But he learned his lesson, too; I don't think he ever went after raw hamburger meat again.

When Dad broke the news to us this week that Dakota was in his last days, we started compiling a list of our favorite memories. My brothers did better at remembering the funny ones. I remembered the things like curling up with him and whispering all my secrets to this newest addition of our family who I was sure understood me better than anyone else possibly could. And I was right, obviously, because he'd sigh knowingly and lick my face as I whispered in his ear. I knew that was his way of telling me he was on my side and everything was going to be okay. He was always supportive that way.

"Dakota" means "the people" in Sioux Indian. Or so said one of Tim's friends, and we pretended like we'd known that when we named him. We didn't pick him; he picked us. See, we weren't even supposed to get a dog. But our friends' dog had a litter of puppies; and we begged and pleaded to be allowed to see them. Mom didn't want a dog. But Dakota knew she was the one he had to win over, and that 8-week old puppy waddled over to her and sat down on her feet. And he had her heart from that point on.

We wrapped him in an old purple robe when we brought him home. He slept with that robe almost every night in the Montville house. At some point Mom cut it up into smaller pieces, and we'd give him a new piece when the previous one got too "loved."

We liked to joke that Dakota could get a job as a therapy dog. Gramarie and Pop-pop weren't really dog-lovers, but they quickly became Dakota-lovers when they moved in with Mom and Dad. Gramarie thought he was her dog; she loved him so much--she liked the "other one" too, she would always tell us; but Dakota was her dog. And, knowing he could always convince her to feed him even though it was against the rules, Dakota became her faithful shadow and companion to the end of his days.

By the end, Dakota could barely walk; stairs were especially a challenge. But Dad reports that his last night, he made the trek up the stairs so he could sleep by everyone else. Dakota-- it means "the people," you know-- never liked to be alone.

It amazes me to think how many people knew him. Friends from pretty much every phase of my life have met and loved Dakota like I did. And he loved them right back.

I knew he was old. I knew he couldn't be around forever. But it's never easy to say goodbye, especially to someone who has listened to your dreams, your frustrations, your hurts, your secrets and has loved you through it all, no matter what.

I'm glad that Mom found a piece of the purple robe for him to have at the end. I'm glad he doesn't hurt anymore. I'm glad he got to meet so many of my friends. I'm glad he got to meet Lucy. I'm glad I got to tell him all those things I told him over the years. I'm glad I got to tell him one last time how much I love him and how great a friend he's been to me. And boy, am I gonna miss that dog.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep....

Last night I dreamed that I was murdered. Vividly, really, truly murdered. The corner where I was shot in my dream is a corner a few blocks from my office where I have stood many times. And I woke up scared and upset and haven't been able to shake the feeling all day.

Without even realizing I was doing it, I've been putting off going to bed as long as I could. I was falling asleep on the couch and realized the time had come; I need to go to bed if I have any hope of getting myself out of bed to go running in the morning.

Yet as soon as I started to pull back the covers on my bed, the same feelings of panic and fear washed over me like it was 3am this morning all over again.

Lord, please give me sweet dreams. Guard my mind, guard my heart. Please don't let me feel fear like that again; keep me safe-- in my dreams, on the streets, and wherever you call me to go in life.